


Trespass

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Charles is unusually daring and it pays off in spades.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Trespass

They were spending the rainy afternoon together, two best friends in a narrow army cot. Klinger was thumbing through the months-old fashion magazines Honoria sent to him through her brother, humming happily as he adapted ideas in his unique way. Charles chuckled at the sound of him, looking up from his book. Seeing Klinger so happy, he impulsively pressed his mouth to his dark hair. 

Klinger tensed, blinked, and looked at him. 

Charles froze. “I am sorry. I quite forgot that I have no right to do that.”

Klinger’s face, usually so expressive, was unreadable. “Says who?”

“The army, for one. The government.” _My family_. 

He spoke so softly that Charles barely caught it above the sound of the falling rain. “I’m the only one here, Major.”

“Indeed. What do you say, Max?”

The Corporal didn’t answer in words, he just guided those huge hands back to his hair, arched into them to feel those well manicured nails scraping over the nape of his neck, over his scalp. Charles chuckled. “Such a cat.”

“You’re gonna have to keep going if you want me ta purr.”

Charles smiled to himself and shifted to his lower back, chasing pain from the muscles there.

Klinger made a satisfied sound - not quite a purr, but pleasing, for all that. “How’d you know?”

“Carrying litters is bad work.” He made a note to visit his wrists, later. 

Klinger lolled under his hands. “Why weren’t we doing this all along?”

“I did not believe you would desire my touch.”

Klinger tilted his head, a wondering look in his eyes. “ _Why_?”

“You are young and very beautiful and you were married…” These things seemed obvious to the Major. 

Klinger chuckled, low and amused. “You make problems where there aren’t any, sir. You’re not _that_ much older than me. What - 32? 33? And you shoulda heard the nurses sighin’ when you transferred in!”

Charles had no interest in nurses. “And you?” 

“I don’t sigh with other people around. Saved mine for when it got dark.” The sparkle of his eyes as he turned back to regard him delighted the Major.

“Moaned my name into your pillow, did you, my pet?”

“You got it, big fella.”

Charles laughed into the back of his neck. “You are my favorite.”

“Favorite what?”

“Slumber party companion. Friend. Corporal. Girl.” He dragged his skirt down, kissed his hip bones until he thrashed, made love to the small of his back with his mouth. “Beauty. Darling. Sweetheart. Fantasy. Plaything.” 

“That’s a lot to lay on a guy all at once, Major.”

“You, who dresses as you do, cannot stand up to flattery? Darling you were _built_ to be praised.”

“You sure took your time about it.”

“We are in the army, Max.” His tone belied his pretense of being miffed; he was pleased with Max’s moxie.

“I wear dresses, Charles.”

The Major made a noise at that; Max felt it move from the man’s chest to his throat.

“Hey.” He turned the upper half of his body, showing off a flexibility that Charles could not wait to test. “What was that?”

“I... “ He hesitated. Klinger had never heard Charles hesitant. “I find that I rather like it when you say my name.”

“Oh. So if there was something I wanted, I could get it, Charles, if I ask pretty?”

“You are always pretty."

“That wasn’t a no.”

“What do you want, darling?”

“To know what it feels like to be yours all the way. To be your favorite reason to scream.” He made Charles breathe faster with that one - and he wasn’t done. “I dream about it lots, Major baby, so I’d sometime like ta know what it’d be like if you lifted me up.” 

The pet name was very sweet; Charles could tell from the easy way it was deployed that Maxwell had said it before - maybe into his pillow, definitely in his head. 

“Corporal darling,” (it made Klinger whine for him) “never let anyone insinuate that I do not love you for your mind.” He stood and offered his hand. 

Charles lifted him easily, bracing him against one of the tent’s sturdier poles. “Oh… oh... “ Max really would have liked _more_ words, wanted to say them, actually, but words required air, and something had happened to his lungs when he’d thrown his legs around Charles... - a daring act he could hardly believe he was engaged in! 

But it seemed to register and resonate with Charles. The Major hummed his pleasure at the feel of him and began to kiss up the hollow of his neck, to lick at his jaw, his ear; he buried his fingers in his dark hair to pull his head back to bare more of his throat. 

That bright center of sensation would have been enough, but the unexpected motion of Maxwell’s legs (practically a dance move, really) had left him wrapped around the man he loved, aligned with him in a way that was impossibly sweet. Max’s overwhelmed body couldn’t decide if it should tilt backward or cling tighter and his hips snapped forward with a hunger and helplessness he hadn’t even known he possessed.

“...sorry…”

Happy laughter hit his ear. Then Charles playfully echoed the gesture that had tangled them. “I began this with a trespass - you should have yours.”

Klinger wriggled in his arms. “If I’dve know there was a limit of one, I would’ve started with your zipper.” 

Charles didn’t laugh much as a rule; he’d never done so with an erection before. Taking that laughter (God, it was good to hear the Major laugh!) as a green light, Klinger skipped the zipper entirely and pushed his fingers down past his waistband, glided them over his boxers, delighted in the heat he found there, the lazy way Charles allowed him to explore as he held him up. The muscles in his arms were taut and visible. 

“Can I tell you something, Major baby?”

Charles had his head tipped back at this point; his concentration rested entire in four fingers and a thumb; his universe very sweetly bounded, indeed. “Mm-hmm. Please, Max.”

Maxwell shivered. He loved how Charles said his name anyway - to hear it drawn out - gone slow and sugary to match the way he was closing his fingers around him… it made him close his eyes with pure pleasure. “I want… baby… Charles, I want you to stay.”

“Tonight? Of course, darling. I cannot leave without setting you down, anyway.”

Klinger didn’t want placed anywhere - and if he was, he wanted to go to his knees or end up on his back - and he wanted Charles above him “For good. Keep me. I don’t know how good I’ll be this time, but if you keep me, I’ll learn what’s good for you. You can teach me.”

“Are you scheming even in this, my sweet?”

He read the Major’s open expression, his dazed smile. “You seem to like it fine.” 

“Indeed. I do not recommend it for all situations, perhaps, but if you wish to deploy your wiles when we are alone, by all means.”

“That was a yes to keeping me, huh?”

“Mmm-hmmm. And being kept by you in turn, my very dear girl.”

Max gave a high, sweet cry at that. Charles had included “girl” in his earlier list of pet names, but Max hadn’t been sure what that would mean. With his skirt shoved up past his knees already, he was very, very eager to be Charles’ girl. 

“I’ll be so good for you, Major. You’ll see. I’m not a good clerk, maybe, but I’ll be good with you.”

“Darling, you already _are_ good for me.” In proper Bostonian, “are” came out “aaah” and darling was nearly as good. “You brighten my life with your kindness and care. You will only brighten it further, I am certain, with your love. You need not ever change for me, Maxwell. Well, except for, ah, positions, perhaps?”

“Go ahead and put me down, Major. It’s my turn to see if I can make you shake for me - and not your arms from holding me up.”

Charles did slide him gently to the ground, even smoothing his skirt, but what he said was, “Oh no, my dear. I am a gentleman. I insist that you allow me.” 

Klinger looked a little frightened, admitted, “I don’t think it’ll take too much.” 

Charles stroked his worried face, kissed him softly until his mouth opened for him. Klinger made wanting, mewling noises under that kiss. “See?” he said when Charles drew back, sounding helpless. 

“I am flattered, sweet. And you should worry less about the expectations you seem to have assigned to me.”

“You’re high class, Major. Too good for me. _Way_ too good.”

“Not at all. You are already accustomed to diamonds and pearls, darling. And with a tiara of gems cresting over your hair, I have never seen a time when you did not outshine each facet that adorns you.”

“ _Paste_ gems, Major.”

“They have merely been acting as placeholders - as practice for the real thing, Max.”

A grin tugged at his mouth, made his lips tremble. “Like stepping up from a farm team to the Majors, sir?”

Charles held up a single finger. “Just one Major, darling, if you please. I am a possessive sort.”

“Never woulda guessed.” He kissed between his eyes, teasing. “I’ll be just yours long as you want me to.”

“That would be, ah, always, Max.”

“How do you know?” 

“Because, my suddenly fearful friend, it is not a new wish. Nor is it predicated on something you will do or something you might fail to do. You need not _earn_ me, Max.” 

“Doubt I could. You oughta let me try though. Could be a good time.” 

Rolling his eyes, Charles ended this silliness with a different caliber of kiss. Max wondered if he had them laid out inside of him somewhere, precise as surgical instruments, ready to be put into use. He’d imagined being kissed by the other man before, but maybe Charles was too good for his imagination, too, because no imagined kiss had ever trembled his limbs - not by itself. 

And when he grew frightened at being easily overwhelmed, at being quite probably not enough, at being thrown open and made so through-and-through vulnerable that he wanted to hide under the covers just to come back to himself a little bit, Charles just held his gaze and soothed him with a touch. 

“Are you always like this?”

“It has been a very long time since I found myself in a position to be so, but I, ah, I suppose.”

“And those people - the ones who were with you for it - they let you _get away_!?”

“I did not love them, my dear. That may have made all the difference.” He bared the Corporal’s shoulder to press his lips there, eyes open as he did so. It would take more than one night, but Charles meant to know and to claim every crevice and curve, every strand of hair and long-healed scar. “Further, I recall no one who ever entered my arms with such happiness, nor anyone who ever fit in them so well.”

Klinger poked at him, making him jump. “ _I told you that when you got here_!”

Charles chuckled. “I beg your forgiveness. I was somewhat caught off guard by your flirtatiousness.” 

“You thought it was part of the whole Section eight thing,” Max corrected. “Thought I flirted with everybody.” 

“It was difficult to believe that you could be sincere, yes.”

“How come?”

Charles had not previously been afforded the opportunity to look into Maxwell’s eyes for as long as he had wished; he stared now, trying to assign their earnest, warm depths a color. He gestured at the pair of them, the elegant movement of his fingers taking in both of them, managing to indicate contrast, though Klinger couldn’t have said how he did so without speaking. 

Placing his hands on the other man’s broad shoulders, Max shook his head. “Not for a minute, sir.”

“Eh?”

“Don’t think like that about yourself. Not with me. Not for even one minute. Now kiss me again before you start fussing at me when we both know I’m right.”

“We do, do we?”

“Shut up, Major baby.” 

Charles might have kept going just for the fun of it; it seemed that kissing his friend hadn’t robbed him of one of the more entertaining aspects of their friendship (something he might have known from Pierce and Hunnicutt, now that he thought about it) and he was grateful, but Max’s lips were slightly parted, his head uplifted to ask again for that kiss. Charles not only granted it - he made it good, made it a reward for the fun and care Klinger conveyed on him and brought into his life. 

Klinger moaned into his mouth at the force of the kiss. It was a good sound- hot and heady, needy enough to make Charles wonder how long that pretty mouth had been neglected. He was glad for the lack of competition (though Max might have been enough to make him damn his morals and try to win him away from another), but amazed at the stupidity of the camp. Anyone who looked in Klinger’s direction ought to have seen that he should be kissed as often as possible. Why hadn’t any of them been doing it? The dresses? It seemed an imbecilic reason, pretty as the man was. 

“Glad you’re laying down,” Klinger confided. “I’ve wanted to kiss you a lot, but I was never sure if I could reach, even in heels.” 

“I would have bent for you, Max.” 

A thrilled little shiver wended up his spine and made him brave. Untucking the Major’s button-down (one of three shirts - and who _tucked in_ something intended as a jacket, anyway?), Klinger slid nimble fingers between the layers he found, chasing the warmth of the other man’s skin, learning the contours of him. 

Charles tensed at first, but warmed when Max literally cooed over the feel of him, nuzzling and bumping his way up from his waist to his chest, nose and lips and fingers all pressed against a softness that too often shamed him, but which seemed to please Maxwell plenty. Saccharine sounds falling from his lips, Klinger continued his explorations, lifting up first a t-shirt, then an undershirt. When he began to lick and kiss and suck up the line of his chest, Charles just stared, unsure how, precisely, to do anything other than allow himself to be worshiped in so tactile a fashion that his toes were starting to curl. 

“You’re so good, baby,” Klinger murmured, kissing in between words as if even being separated for the time it took to speak hurt him. “So handsome. You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted this, Charles, wanted the chance to show you how you get to me. Can I take these off now?” 

Charles wasn’t sure what he was even asking about. He did know that the army was (rightly) against surrender… but this couldn’t possibly count, right? “Maxwell, I should think it would be obvious given the involuntary movements that much of my body is engaged in, but if you require the words, sweet, then, yes, you may do whatever you wish with me.”

“Careful, Major. I’ll ask to keep you and that Winchester honor of yours’ll force you to tell me I can.” But before Charles could answer this, he was divesting the taller man of his shirts. Charles lifted his arms in a gesture he hadn’t made since he was a very small boy - and rather than making him feel infantalized, the careful way Max undressed him made him almost giddy. Part of it was the undisguised hunger in those hands, the excitement to see him, but part of it was letting someone in so far, so deeply. Somehow, Max had gently, laughingly argued and cajoled and teased all of his gates down and here he was, exposed under sunlight - the sunlight of the Corporal’s grin, anyway. 

“That’s better.” Max surveyed him with pride before running his hands over his ribs - and this time the sound he made was like the purr he’d joked about - a long note of contentment. “What did I ever do ta deserve you, huh?” 

Then his mouth was everywhere. Charles gaped at him as he moved from his jawline to his waist in a pattern that only he recognized - a sort of personalized pleasure trail that left the man mapped by it open-mouthed as his shoulders twisted against the mattress. “You are… my dear… I know you have already professed your belief that the difference in our ages did not concern you, but you may be entirely too much for me, Maxwell!” 

It made him laugh. “Too much is just what you need! You’ve been buttoned up and tucked away too long. Something as pretty as you doesn’t belong in a drawer or on some dusty shelf. It’s meant to be shown off and loved and played with - a lot.” 

His hands were back in play, dipping into the strawberry curls that adorned the Major’s chest. This skin-to-skin contact suggested there might have been something to Max’s assessment about drawers and shelves, because these slight touches had Charles shaking, his breaths uneven and stalling out. Klinger turned his wrist to see his fingers card through the red-gold softness. “You sure don’t need any medals, Major baby, pretty as you are.”

Charles leaned up to ask for kisses, sliding the slighter man deeper into his lap. “I can imagine no prouder adornment than your body over mine.” 

Klinger was still chuckling when their lips met. When they parted, he said, “Never thought about bein’ an accessory before, but if you want to wear me on your wrist, sometime…”

“Around my waist, precious. Like a belt.” 

“We could get in a lotta trouble that way.” 

“P’raps. But would it not be a fit challenge for my wits and your schemes to find a way back out?”

“My schemes and your tongue.” 

“I rather thought I would save my tongue for you.”

Klinger made a pleased, incoherent sound. 

Winchester pretended concern. “Indeed, I may need to employ it to look for the tongue you just swallowed. What do you think? Say, ahh, pet?” 

“ _Fuck._ ”

Well, that answered that question. Smiling, Charles tipped Max’s chin. “Mmm, my dear, it seems I must add a new designation to my list. You shall be my favorite play _mate_ as well.”

Max’s mouth wobbled as he fought off a smile. “You wanna play doctor with me?” 

What Charles wanted - had _always_ wanted - was someone who wanted to play with _him_. “I want everything with you, Max. And if that charming bit of vulgarity was a request, I can imagine other methods to locate your tongue.” 

“Aah?” 

Rising as far as his knees, Charles wished his fingers were half as clever as they usually were during surgery, but he managed the belt and the zip, managed to fumble his pants past his hips. Max would have helped, but his mouth just fell open more. He’d imagined this, too, serving alongside the Major. As a proficient seamstress, Max was good at eyeballing measurements. The Major was tall, tall, tall, so he’d thought, well, what anyone would - that whatever those baggy army pants in hated olive (Olive on that skin tone? Criminal! Maxwell would have happily seen the return of _Civil War era uniforms_ for the chance to see Charles in blue) - it was probably proportional. 

For his part, Charles was humbled by what he couldn’t help thinking of as “wedding day eyes.” Max didn’t just desire him; desire was a trite description for all that Charles could see in those dark depths - and he thought there might be other layers and shifting emotions that he just hadn’t learned to read yet. 

_This is… this should not be_ **_sacred_ **. 

_No. That is not true._

Hadn’t he always thought of sex as sacred? That was why he rarely indulged in it. If it had no meaning, if there was no communion of souls, why not take care of things himself? He knew it was an old-fashioned belief, but he thought he’d chosen a partner who might share it. 

If nothing else, Max’s mind seemed to be on communion, too, because he scooted down the cot to put himself in position to grant Charles his mouth. 

Charles kissed him first - though the delay made him tremble and ache - licked his lips until they shined. 

Apparently prepared to uphold that teasing bit about finding his tongue, Klinger left his tongue hidden until Charles was deep. Only then did he send it exploring up the length of him, mapping thick veins and teasing a circle around the flared hood. 

Charles buried his fingers in his hair. “Oh, darling… oh, my dear…” 

Klinger made happy noises in answer - or maybe in welcome. “My… dear … girl. Look at me, darling. Look what you have made of me, Max.”

Those eyes - fringed by lovely lashes - sparkled for him, spoke so clearly that Charles heard the other man’s voice in his head: _I’m not done, Major. Not by a long shot_. 

And when he did finish, Max was smiling with his too-bright mouth. 

Charles gripped his shoulder to anchor himself. “Darling, you did not have to…”

Max’s lashes beat on his flushed cheeks; his eyes were pure, black mischief. “Swallow?” 

“How can you be both so delicately beautiful and so depraved?”

“Lucky, I guess? Besides, you’ve called me lots worse.”

Charles regretted those early days of their frenemy-ship; he had sought to sharpen his wit on Maxwell only to find that the clever Corporal, though not armed with vocabulary, had the talent and dedication to turn his worst insults back on him. Well, he could redeem a cruel word or two - or at least make Maxwell forget them for a time. “I should like to make you call _for_ me. Shall I, ah…?

“Whatever you want, baby. Listening to you almost did me in.” As he said this, he closed his eyes and threw his head back, arching into the memory of that voice - that posh, perfect voice! - unraveling, gaining in volume and desperation - and all for and because of _him_! 

“You cannot be serious.”

“I mean, I’m sure watching helped,” Max added, hoping he hadn’t unintentionally insulted the other man. “You’re beautiful. More than that, but I don’t know the words for it. But you know I like the way you talk, Major.” 

“I did not realize.”

“Why do you think I try to get you riled up and using those words I don’t understand?”

“Pure contrariness?”

“Well sure, some. But you’ll talk longer if I do.” 

“And what is it that you have been hoping that I might say?” 

“I love you.” 

This was both an admission as well as the phrase he desired to hear. 

Charles held him close. He wrapped his long fingers around him. Max gasped but, when their eyes met, he nodded. “Is that good, Maxwell?”

He huffed a laugh, its brevity dictated by the lack of air in his lungs. “You can tell by looking at me, Major, so stop fishin’ for compliments!” 

“You did not mind my, ah, ‘fishing’ beneath these artful ruffles of yours.” He changed his grip, teasing, winning soft sounds. 

“So… vain… Major? You need me ta compliment ya the whole time?” 

“I need _you_ , yes, my dear girl. I love you.” 

Dark eyes held his. _Say it again, Major._

“I love you, Maxwell.” 

This was a far greater trespass, or should have been, than the kiss on his head, as was the shuddering apart that followed it. Seeing Klinger’s long lashes beat on his blood-bright cheeks - Charles thought he might join in with the act that had him gasping, his hips doing something that belonged in a dance school, but he settled for watching, then holding on, worshipfully caressing, kissing Max as he came down. 

“ _Oh_.” 

“Oh?” 

“I really liked the… the kissing at the end. Kinda kept things going.”

“Not keeping the compliments to yourself, now, eh, pet?”

“Not ever again, I don’t think. Not if you kiss me like that next time.” 

“May I begin with your hair again?” His eyes were shining. 

“Anytime, Major.” 

End! 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
